Like Shooting Stars
by Saf Dawnheart
Summary: Do you trust me? — Briar/Jay.


Not much to say about this fic, except don't expect much of it because I wrote it on a whim and in about an hour. Oh, and the last sentence is just me trying to tie in the title to the rest of the fic. -sweatdrop-

Enjoy!

_**Disclaimer-**_ If I owned Warriors, HollyBerry would be canon. Also, the lyrics that appear in the title of this fic are from the song "Airplanes," which I also do not own. Those lovely honors belong to B.o.B./Hayley Williams (whose part in that song is SO Briarlight, idc what anyone says).

* * *

It's a beautiful night, Briarlight thinks to herself as she peers out from her vantage point of the medicine cat's den. A very gentle bite to the air reveals that leaf-fall will be upon the Clans soon; with the lack of noise in the camp but for the crickets and rustles from the warriors' den, the clearing is all but silent. And of course, StarClan is glowing as brightly as ever, shining down, serving as an ever-constant reminder of their presence and gently guiding light in the Clans' lives.

Maybe it's the accident that crippled her talking, but Briarlight finds that presence less comforting than ever.

Moreover, the fact that she can crane her neck even this much to see the omnipresent portent of her ancestors overhead – despite her accursed broken back – sends a thick, bitter kind of acknowledgment throughout her entire body.

She'll never get used to it. The fact is one that has resonated throughout her entire being since that fateful day, the day she had sacrificed her ability to walk to try and save Longtail. Ironic, how _stupidly ironic_ that he had died anyway, that she had looked up just in time to see the tree crashing down toward her and had just the slightest fraction of an eternity to have her entire, short life flash behind her tightly-shut eyelids.

Quickly, Briarlight shakes her head in a vain attempt to clear it. Memories, memories, memories – they won't do her any good now that her life has changed so drastically, now that any traces of her old dreams have been swept away, crushed by the tree that might as well have added her body to Longtail's. It won't do, to just let herself drown in the memories and let regret for what could have been consume her. She has to keep up herfaçade in front of her siblings and the rest of the Clan, after all – that of the noble warrior who rises above any troubles and transforms adversity into strength.

So far, that mask has succeeded at becoming reality. To the point where Briarlight herself can almost believe the distraught she-cat she sees in the occasional puddle in camp is, in fact, the real version of her, not just a side of herself she pushed forward to cope. To the point where even Blossomfall and Bumblestripe have stopped giving her odd looks and commenting on any overly-optimistic remarks she makes. For StarClan's sake, Firestar named her Briar_light_ for a _reason._

So, Briarlight tells herself firmly, it won't do to get lost in regret and bitterness over what could have been. _The past is the past for a reason._

…not surprisingly, the thought feels half-hearted even to her.

"Briarlight?" A masculine voice comes from behind her, and Briarlight tiredly flicks her ears toward the sound, suddenly feeling the weight of the stars above on her shoulders. From the darkness of the medicine cat den, a dark gray shadow materializes next to her.

"It's getting late," Jayfeather continues, and Briarlight reflects on how before the accident forced her into close proximity with the cantankerous tom, the way he never _looked_ at any cat when he spoke used to terrify her. Now, though, she welcomes the lack of eye contact that his blindness allows him to exempt from, because she knows that if he looked right at her, the meticulously-built dam about her emotions might just break apart.

As it is, though, Jayfeather remains looking blankly ahead, his voice obtaining an edge to it in his next remark. "You should get some sleep, or Millie will rip my tail off and use it as a toy for Poppyfrost's kits."

Despite herself, Briarlight can't hold back a tiny snort of half-laughter. Jayfeather and his dry humor – another thing she's gotten used to. "Right, right," she mutters, mildly shocked at how steady her voice comes out. "Wouldn't want my mother to hurt the cat who's keeping me alive."

And maybe it's testing the limits of her emotions' effect on her voice that does it, but her voice breaks on the last part, because Jayfeather _is_ keeping her alive. If he hadn't pushed and poked and prodded her back into the world of the living in all his prickly irritability, she may well have hauled herself over to one of the many cliffs surrounding the lake and ended it. But for whatever reason, due to some blip in Jayfeather's normally-staunch annoyance toward the world in general, he is putting up with ThunderClan's newest cripple.

_Cripple. Oh, that's a lovely label if evfer there was one,_ she thinks, and the poignancy of the bitterness behind the thought causes her vision to blur.

Briarlight instinctively ducks as Jayfeather's head swings toward her, his bright blue eyes seemingly impassive but mild surprise written on his face nonetheless. Her first thought is that he can't detect the movement due to his blindness, but then she remembers that his sensitive whiskers probably picked up the shift in the air her movement had caused and feels that slow anger sweeping through her veins again at knowing she was wrong.

"No, I suppose not," the dark gray tom answers after a moment, narrowing one eye. During one of her few visits to the half-bridge along the lakeside, Briarlight has seen a few of the Twolegs make an expression like this, moving one strip of hair on their forehead down and the other upward to acquire a quizzical expression. Jayfeather's own countenance reminds her of that now. The similarity would have almost made her laugh, were she not feeling so completely pathetically _despondent_ right now.

"Get to sleep, then," he says then, his tone as brusque as ever. "It's late."

Briarlight swings her head up to look at him. And for some reason, for some inescapable reason, the curt look that has made its reappearance on his face causes something inside her to erupt. Perhaps it's the despair that has been accumulating within her the whole night, or the confusion at Jayfeather – _Jayfeather,_ of all cats, who even with his altruism-advocating status as medicine cat can't exactly push him into _friendly_ territory – taking such good care of her. Either way, though, it's all gushing forward before she can stop it.

"Well, pardon me if it's a little difficult for me to get to sleep when I can barely move!" she snarls at him. "Pardon me if I can't even toss and turn at night when I want to, if I feel like a piece of half-dead fresh-kill dragging myself around camp all day long! And –" here she chokes, and she thinks Jayfeather's eyes have never been so wide before – "what if nothing good comes of StarClan choosing to keep me alive and Longtail dead? Choosing to exchange one cripple for another? Jayfeather… Jay…" she tries to say his name but the stupid stupid stupid lump in her throat strangles the _feather_ part and wrestles it back down her windpipe with all the force of a piece of mouse getting caught there, so it just ends up _Jay_ and that way it stays –

"_What if I die the same way that ShadowClan cat did?"_

The final part comes out sounding less like her own voice and more like the final, piercing wail of prey that sees the predator charging for it and cries out one last time before it is silenced, leaves its mark upon the world before leaving it forever.

For a brief, panic-filled moment, Briarlight thinks her outburst must have woken up the entire camp. But by some miracle her mother doesn't come rushing out of her den and demand as to what Jayfeather had done to her poor crippled daughter, nor does her father come lumbering out of the warriors' den sleepy-eyed and ask what in StarClan's name is going on.

Jayfeather is still staring at Briarlight. She notices the dark gray fur along his spine is bristling ever so slightly, and she cringes, wondering if she'd stepped out of line and had just earned herself a furious rebuke from him.

But then another miracle occurs, and something flickers in those blind blue eyes. She's not sure what it is, but then his fur is beginning to lie flat and any thought she has as to what just relented within him vanishes immediately when he speaks. His voice is uncharacteristically soft, almost _tender,_ a fact that sends her reeling even more than his words.

"Do you trust me?"

The sentence is one Briarlight has heard before, but almost never between friends. Graystripe has spoken it to Millie several times while trying to calm her, as has Firestar to Sandstorm; the she-cat swears she even heard Berrynose whisper it to Poppyfrost, that night when the nursery became more full and the latter was wracked with pain.

And maybe that's what shocks Briarlight and pulls a small murmur out of her: that Jayfeather's words have the context of those spoken between mates.

Jayfeather is eyeing her expectantly, she realizes with a start: probably completely unaware of the connotation of his question. So she responds, albeit a bit cautiously in the aftermath of the warmth her contemplation had sent fleeing to her cheeks.

"Of course I do," she says, and adds, "Y-you're the medicine cat," for good measure.

_Oh, nicely done, Briarlight. "I trust you because you're our medicine cat and you're morally obligated to help me," that's _so_ not mouse-brained in _any_ way, shape, or form._

Jayfeather does the eye-narrow again, almost as though Briarlight's own thought is going through his mind as well. Then that something flickers in his gaze again, and Briarlight realizes the identity of that something.

_Sympathy._

"Then keep trusting me," he says, flicking his tail over her ears. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure you _don't_ die. I promise."

He almost whispers the last two words, and Briarlight's eyes widen substantially as it hits her how close they've gotten; she can practically feel his breath caressing her ear fur. The scent of herbs wafts around her, and she finds herself drawing comfort from that scent, from his warmth, her despair all but forgotten.

Then he's drawing back and speaking, his voice having returned to the dryness Briarlight has become accustomed to and feels herself relax at hearing.

"And really? If you were really no more use than a half-dead piece of fresh-kill, I wouldn't have bothered keeping you alive this long," he grumbles. "Now get to bed."

Briarlight blinks; it occurs to her, vaguely, that that should hafve offended her, but in the wake of her response to Jayfeather's uncharacteristic tenderness she finds herself unable to care much. "Duly noted," she grunts.

And yet a smile is breaking across her face as she turns on the ground and follows him into the den.

She sleeps well that night, dreaming only of blue eyes and bright stars.

* * *

And now I have that song stuck on repeat on my iPod XDD; -shot forever-


End file.
